


Target Audience

by Azazel



Series: If Wishes Were Wings (Then Maybe We Could Fly Away) [3]
Category: DCU (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Violence, Underage Sex, mention of possible Bruce/Stephanie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4396463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azazel/pseuds/Azazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim gets grounded when his father discovers his secret. Jason comes looking for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Target Audience

Tim jumps when his bedroom window opens from the outside, admitting the last person he expected to see. Red Hood cuts an intimidating, and incongruous, figure among the movie posters on the walls and drab tones of the room. Tim’s hands are frozen on his keyboard as he watches Jason look around. Finally, the blank face of Jason’s helmet turns toward him, chin tilted up in challenge.

“So this is where my shadow is hiding.”

Tim scowls and swivels his desk chair around until he is face to face with Jason before saying, “I am not hiding.”

Jason’s smirk is clear in his voice, “But you don’t deny being my shadow.”

The scowl morphs into a full-on glare, “What do you want, Jason?” 

“I can’t just stop by to check on my replacement when he drops off the face of the planet? You wound me.”

“I did not ‘drop off the face of the planet’. My father discovered the secret and forbade me from going out as Robin,” Tim looks down and away at the last. 

Jason’s laugh is harsh, “Oh, I know. And the Bat already got someone to take your place. Just like I said he would.”

Tim’s knuckles are white where they curl over his knees, “She is not- No. I am not having this discussion with you.”

“That’s fine, _Tim_. It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s no better at trying to be Dick than either of us were,” Jason’s tone is light but Tim can hear the bitterness underlying it. “Won’t be long before she takes your place with the Titans, too. Then they’ll forget all about you.” With a sigh Jason reaches up and pops open the hidden catches on his helmet. Tim can only stare as Jason tosses it onto the bed with a complete air of nonchalance, like it’s something he does every day. When he turns back to Tim, Tim snorts lightly at the fact that, even without the helmet, Jason is still wearing a mask. A sharp-cornered red Domino covers his eyes forcing Tim to remember the times he watched Jason when he had been Robin. 

The strange juxtaposition is shattered when Jason plants his fists on his hips and says, “I wonder how long it’ll be before Bruce if fucking her. Not long I’d guess. She seems like the type to- whoa there!” 

Jason grabs Tim’s wrist, redirecting the wild punch and twisting Tim’s arm behind his back. Yanking Tim against his chest Jason presses his lips to Tim’s ear and murmurs, “Careful, little bird, wouldn’t want Daddy to catch you in your jammies talkin’ to a vigilante would you?”

Tim squirms until Jason pulls his elbow up slightly then he gasps, “No.”

“Good boy,” Jason hums and shifts closer, pulling Tim tight to his chest with his free arm. “God you’re so small. If you ever get the chance you should thank Bruce because the uniform even fooled me into thinking you were bigger.”

“Jason,” Tim breathes and reaches up to wrap his fingers around Jason’s where they are fisted in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 

Jason bites Tim’s shoulder lightly and grumbles, “Then again, that uniform is designed to hide a lot of things. Especially blood. How much blood did it hide for you, little bird?”

Tim shivers, thinking about the scars that crisscross his skin now. Scars like the ones Jason must have. He blinks slowly as his mind wanders into a familiar fantasy of finding each of those scars and kissing them. He snaps back to reality when he feels Jason grind against his ass, armored cup digging into him. His hand goes along for the ride as Jason reaches for the drawstring of his pajama bottoms. Jason groans under his breath when the flannel falls to the floor, exposing Tim’s lower half completely. 

“No underwear? Naughty, naughty. And look at that,” Jason hooks his chin over Tim’s shoulder to stare at his cock. “Some parts of you really _do_ like this.” Jason’s chuckle makes Tim start to pant. He bites his bottom lip to stifle a moan when Jason scratches sharp fingernails over the skin of his lower belly. 

Jason growls, “Fuck I just- I want to hate you so bad, little bird.” Without letting go of the arm he has pinned behind Tim’s back Jason reaches down to yank his belt and jeans open. He squeezes Tim hard around the middle when he glances down and sees a jagged scar along the top of his right thigh just below his ass. The sound of Jason spitting into his palm cuts through Tim’s harsh panting.

“Spread your legs a bit,” Jason sounds slightly breathless as he slaps the tip of his cock against Tim’s ass. Tim squeezes his eyes shut and shifts his feet. Jason is rubbing the bridge of his nose along the shell of Tim’s ear as he bends his knees until he can slide his cock between Tim’s legs. Before he can say anything Tim’s thighs crash back together with a fleshy snap. Tim slaps a hand over his mouth to keep from moaning or begging, or both, when Jason starts talking in a low tone, “How many times did you get off to thoughts of me sneaking in your window to fuck you, hm? In my little green spanky pants and pixie boots. Did you dream about sucking me off? Did you finger yourself and wish it was me?”

Tim nods so hard a fleeting thought about whiplash crosses his mind before dissolving into burning need. Jason’s cock prods his sac with every thrust and rubs the delicate skin of his perineum raw. He is panting through his nose, doing his best to muffle the high whine in his throat with one hand and gripping Jason’s jeans with the other. 

Jason jerks, pulling Tim’s arm higher up his back. Tim has to bite the flesh of his own hand to keep from screaming as he shakes, his cock bobbing with every pulse of cum that lands on his comforter. He slumps in Jason’s hold, sagging until Jason is supporting his full weight. Jason drops Tim’s wrist and wraps both arms around him, one around his chest and the other around his midsection. His legs quiver when he tries to bring them together tighter. Jason grunts and shoves his face into the back of Tim’s shoulder, his rhythm faltering then breaking down completely into harsh, erratic thrusts. 

“Oh, fuck, yeah. Gonna fuck you one of these days, little bird,” Jason babbles. “Gonna make you scream for me. Hnn.” The sound of skin slapping skin nearly drowns out the words tumbling over each other but Tim chokes on air when Jason gasps, “Tim!” Wet heat floods the space between Tim’s thighs, spilling across his skin and sliding down the front of his legs. His cock twitches painfully at the feeling of Jason’s cum dripping off his balls. 

Pulling away Jason uses the back of Tim’s shirt to wipe cum, spit and sweat off of his dick. Tim nearly collapses when Jason lets go of him completely. He wobbles dangerously as he reaches down to pull up his pajamas. By the time he turns around Jason has already righted his clothes and is reaching around him to pick up his helmet. A loud scoff startles him. 

“You got cum on my helmet. I should punch you for that.”

Tim shrugs and pulls his shirt over his head. A few quick swipes and all traces of sex are gone from the shiny red surface. Jason is staring at him with a deliberately blank look. He mutters, “Thanks.” Shoving the helmet on he turns back to the window he came in through but Tim snags his wrist before he can beat a hasty exit.

“Goodnight, Jason.”

Yanking his arm free Jason grunts and slips out into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by the Marylin Manson song of the same name, specifically the lyrics
> 
> “’the valley of death we are free  
> your father's your prison you see’
> 
> And I see all the young believers  
> Your target audience  
> I see all the old deceivers  
> we all just sing their song
> 
> you're just a copy of an imitation”


End file.
